Various Storms & Saints
by Cygnus x
Summary: Bella Swan is missing. And Edward Cullen was the last known person seen talking to her. This is Twilight re-written. What would happen if Edward couldn't resist the darkness in his head, and decided to claim the blood of his singer? Warning: ocasional Dark/Disturbing imagery
1. Those who Sow the Wind

**Authors Note**

Twilight is a story with potential. The world is interesting. And while yes, there are many problems with the book, they're essentially harmless, and at the very least entertaining. All the same, I've had writers block for my original content. So I'm challenging myself to re-write Twilight, and do it better. Expect many changes – but also for some things to stay the same. Just a warning t **here will be disturbing imagery in this chapter,** and probably in the future as well. These are vampires.

 **One: Those who Sow the Wind**

The door wouldn't open.

And worse yet, the sky seemed to have unzipped itself and was dumping torrents of rain on my head.

 _Son of a bitch_ , I thought. The perfect end, to the perfect day.

I looked up at the boiling mass of bruised purple clouds, and the lighting flashing within, and attempted to squish myself under the narrow awning over the front door. It really only barely counted as one, and with my backpack in front of me (in a vain hope at keeping the books and papers inside dry) I didn't fit.

"Son of a bitch," I said aloud this time.

If my phone were working I'd call Charlie, my dad. But dead it was, namely because I'd tripped and fallen into a puddle that felt more like a pond this morning, and gotten the delicate brat of a thing soaked. It was currently in a bag of rice Angela had helped me get from the Foods teacher, sitting in my backpack.

I let out an aggravated little scream and kicked the door. All that accomplished was me swearing like a sailor, and jacking up my foot.

Charlie was a cop. His front door was far sturdier than my toes, or my woefully sodden sneakers. Mournfully, I exed the newest Discworld book from the budget I'd made for new purchases, and added a pair of goulashes to it instead.

"At least there's the truck," I grumbled, turning around and splashing across the lawn toward the lovely old monster of metal Charlie had gifted me with. That much made me smile. Charlie was a good dad. Certainly better than some of the father's I'd heard my friends talk about back in Phoenix.

I was fumbling the keys out of my pocket when someone laid on their horn on the road, making me jump, and sending the keys sailing out of my hand to land somewhere in the yard.

"What the fuck!" I shouted, peering around the truck and spotting a shiny Volvo sitting like a toad a few feet away. Through the torrent, I couldn't see into the windows. But I knew who was inside nonetheless. I'd seen him and his family climb into the thing earlier in the day.

What the hell would Edward want from me?

I'll be frank. I wasn't in the best of moods. So rather than handling this like a mature adult, or wondering how the hell he knew where I lived (Even if that answer was obvious, I still should have considered it) I stomped across the yard and ripped open the passenger side door of the car.

"What?" I growled to a surprised face. His black eyes were like pinpricks in the shadowy interior of the car. Only the faintest glimmer of light touched them, making him look weirdly... inhuman.

"Are you alright?"

"Not particularly, no," I snapped dryly.

"Do you want a ride to the police station?" Something about his tone was a little off. But it didn't really register. He'd been a major factor in how my day had gone wrong so we weren't on the best of terms. Or really any. It wasn't like he'd actually spoken to me.

"Why are you here?" I might have been emotionally over charged, tired, wet, and cold, but I was still the daughter of a cop.

"To apologize." His body language said 'blush' but his cheeks were as pale as ever. Maybe he was sick?

"Thanks," I replied, disinclined to actually accept it. It really had been a bad day. And I was pretty sure I had PMS too, which was making everything far more intense. Harder to ignore.

"You're soaked," he pointed out.

"Yeah," I agreed. And then slid into the car and buckled my seat belt. The seat began to warm up, and I was totally grateful the guy had parents rich enough to invest in a car with butt warmers in a car for their teenaged son. "I lost my keys somewhere in the yard, and the door wont open. You take me to the police station, and we're all good, though, 'kay?"

Edward nodded, and began to drive. Streetlights winked on one by one as the darkening storm came at us harder, and steam was starting to rise from my clothes from the deliciously warm air in the car. I let out a contented sigh, and might have let myself fall asleep if I'd known him better.

Instead I turned to peer out the window. It was raining so hard I could barely tell where we were. Just that there were plenty of trees. Nothing looked familiar.

And the car remained silent. But there was something in the silence. Something that made the skin on the back of my neck crawl, and my heart skip a beat.

I counted backwards. It had been nearly ten minutes. The police station took maybe eight to reach. And the car was only accelerating. Really far too fast given the weather.

I turned my head to look across the seat, to look at Edward, the faint silhouette of a man, lit only by the glow of the instruments on the dash.

"How..." my voice trailed off as lighting flashed, and threw the world into pale blue light, making everything look flat. Two dimensional. In the light, I could see Edward was smiling.

No. Not smiling – barring his glistening, perfect white teeth.

 _I shouldn't have got into the car with him,_ instinct screamed. _I shouldn't have got in the car!_

Rationalization replied with; _he's a high school student. We're fine. He's just –_

Even rationalization couldn't come up with something to combat the newly discovered tension in the car. It was so thick I was choking on it. Or maybe having an asthma attack. I'd had that when I was a kid. And truthfully, I'd never felt smaller. More like the butterfly someone pins to a rectangle of cardboard.

"Don't be scared," he said, his voice a low throbbing purr. "We're almost there."

I blushed, and could feel the heat in my neck and the rest of my body. I felt naked, exposed with just the sound of him talking.

Predator, my gut said.

I tried to swallow around a dry throat, my hands clutching spasmodically at the seat as I spied the odometer. We were going nearly a hundred miles an hour in a thunderstorm.

Tree's whipped past us, blurring into dark shapes like skeletal reaching hands. I would have jumped out of the car if I thought I might survive it. Hell, I was considering it anyway –

 _but no,_ logic whispered. _As long as there's a chance, you wait. He can't do anything while he's driving._

And – maybe he wouldn't do anything at all.

Thu-thunk – the car hit and ran over something. A tree branch? Anything was possible in the madly swaying forest – and whatever it was, it seemed to be the final ingredient for disaster. The car began to spin, to skate across the pavement like it was too light to touch the ground.

No traction.

Hydroplaning, I though with horror.

It happened in an instant. We crashed into a guard rail and plunged into darkness. Glass shattered, a tree branch pierced the windshield, going straight for Edward's face and –

and.

 **Darkness.**

Rain pattering on metal.

Distant thunder.

Birds cawing.

The sensation of flying.

"Oooh," I groaned, trying to open my eyes. Or to bring my hands up toward my head. Wait – up?

I looked to bleary eyes at the word, and found the sky muddy and pinned with trees. My arms dangled limply above me. My legs had pulled up too, and were half bent, knees close to my stomach.

It was luck that kept me from screaming. Along with spying the first fingers of pale gray dawn in the sky below.

Trembling hands came into view, with torn finger nails, and several of the fingers themselves awkwardly bent.

Beyond them, to my left, there was Edward. Or what should have been him. His head looked like a shattered block or marble. The tree branch I'd spotted earlier bored directly through his forehead and out the other side of the seat.

I cried out and weakly went for the latch on the seat belt, causing a rainfall of shredded yellow foam to fall past my head, into the dented roof. Moving my hands took time. I could hardly feel them as anything more than burning hot agony. It was like trying to maneuver two gloves full of soft, hot sand. Only each time I tried to press on anything pain would lance through them and make me whimper. It was like having rotten teeth where my bones should have been.

I'm alive, I thought dazedly. I'm …

A strangled gasp.

What I _was_ was light headed. Suffocating. About to pass out again probably.

 _Not with the dead man!_

That was what finally got me over my skittish fumbling. I stabbed my broken hands at the latch for the seat belt, and dropped into the top of the car with a strangled scream of agony. The world had gone gray and fuzzy, and vomit was rising up my throat. I crawled through broken glass, out of the car, and emptied the contents of my stomach on dead leaves instead of myself. Then nearly passed out on top of it. I managed to roll at the last second, and the darkness claimed me again.

When I woke again, it was the cold rain on my face, and a hideous metallic shrieking. Consciousness slammed into me this time, and with a strange clarity I watched the totaled car rock from side to side – and saw the metal of the undercarriage ripple.

There's something alive inside.

There was nothing alive inside.

Just Edward's corpse.

 _I'm hallucinating._

The car split apart like a blooming flower, and birthed the man who should have been dead. His face was –

 _wrong._

Lopsided, shattered. No longer perfect. One one eyes was lower than the other, dropping out of its socket. And he was coming for me. No longer a handsome devil, but some lurching creature from a child's nightmare.

I turned onto my stomach and scrambled onto my feet, away, away, through the sudden flames of agony, and the taste of blood thick in my throat.

"No, no, no, no, no -" I cried out hoarsely. "No! You can't!" But he could. And he would. Powerful hands closed around my arms, and wrenched me backwards.

 _Snap._

An inconsequential sound, like someone breaking a pencil.

My left arm went numb.

And I looked up into the black eyes of my murderer with helpless terror, tears falling, screaming sobs erupting as he bent and tore into my throat.

This pain was no greater than any of the others in my tortured, abused body. In fact it was almost kind. Warmth flowed out of me and cold rushed in to fill the gap. But each drop of burning blood on me was wonderful, wonderful heat.

A long sigh as exhaustion crept in along the tunnels my eyes had become.

Sleep. Sleep now.

I was whisked away, to the sound of my fathers voice as he sang a lullaby. My mothers hand was cool and smooth on my forehead. Family. We were together.

 _I'm sorry, Dad..._


	2. Reap the Whirlwind

**Authors Note**

Here comes the next installment! There is more than one point of view in this chapter, and the people who are not Bella are all written in third person.

 **Chapter Two: Reap the Whirlwind**

His house is full of flashing lights. Blue, red, blue, red.

Coworkers had already combed the house for evidence, but there was nothing to find. His Daughter's room is the same way it was that morning, when he woke her up to tell her he was heading in to work. Boxes, a half unpacked suitcase. A tiny, struggling potted cactus on the window sill. Ancient computer.

There was a tee shirt hanging haphazardly from one of the posts on her bed.

A pair of muddied shoes from yesterday say lopsided next the door.

And then there was him, Charlie Swan, nearly fifty years old, staring at a photograph that was almost ten.

 _My family._

And;

 _This house hadn't been so empty since Renee left._

Renee whom he would soon have to call.

Numb. Pained. He hadn't even managed to hold on to his daughter for forty-eight hours. "Oh god," he cried out hoarsely. "Oh _god_!"

If god was listening, it wasn't to Charlie's prayers.

 _VS &S_

 **MISSING**

ISABELLA MARIE SWAN

LAST SEEN FEBRUARY 12

IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION  
PLEASE CALL THE FORKS POLICE  
DEPARTMENT

Below this, there was a picture of a young woman with long, thick reddish brown hair, and brown eyes. Her shoulders were up, and though the picture was no longer the best quality, it seemed like she was blushing. Her smile was awkward, but genuine.

And she was gone.

A pale hand snatched the flier from the school bulletin bored. Perfectly manicured nails brushed across the name.

"The police chief's daughter?"

Students scattered without knowing why, abandoning the statuesque blonde, leaving her a wide bubble of space. The growl was sub-audible, but human beings still possessed some survival instincts in the hind brain. Little neon signs that burst into color and light when danger was near. A sixth sense.

Rosalie ignored the children around her, and carefully replaced the flier. Then she turned on her high heeled boots and stalked toward the hidden alcove behind the cafeteria where student's sometimes went to smoke.

She had a call to make.

 _VS &S_

Carlisle stared at his son in disbelief. Edward stood in the open sliding door that led outback toward the river and woods with the mangled and broken body of a young woman in his arms. The guilt on his face, the red in his eyes. Her body. They all told a story.

"I'm sorry," he bit out brokenly.

Speechless, Carlisle took a moment to regather his wits. A moment that would have barely been a blink to a human. He was by his son's side an instant later, taking the girl, and realizing with fresh surprise that she wasn't dead. The heart beat was faint and trembling, like a bird's.

"You didn't kill her?"

"I stopped myself... in time. Barely."

And had sentenced himself to an immortal reminder of his mistake. But, Carlisle couldn't bring himself to regret that. As long as she lived, there was a chance. A spark of hope. For redemption as well as life.

He stole her away, toward the basement of the house, leaving Edward for the time being, sparing a moment to send Esme to him but only a moment.

Because the girl in his arms was beginning to groan. And groans would soon become screams.

It had been just over a day since he'd seen his son. And when the Police Chief's daughter went missing in a town as small as this, the news moved quickly. Fliers with her face on it were already beginning to paper the town.

 _VS &S_

Alice collided with the front door, and only Jasper catching her by the arm kept the poor wood from buckling. Even so, the hinges let out a distressed shriek, and there was a dent when she pulled away.

"Door knobs, darlin'," Jasper intoned softly.

Calm settled around her like a blanket. And not for the first time. She'd been nearly apoplectic with rage, and terror, and panic on the flight back across the country. The vision she'd had in Paris, the shattering of their nice little future had nearly sent her into the gutter when it slammed into her.

Now, instead of seeing the family at a secluded and private beach the day after valentines day, she saw Rosalie trying to kill Edward, their front lawn full of police cars, and a young woman screaming and clawing at the walls of their basement.

Italy flashed across her brain, and for a moment the terror had her rooted to the floor. Was this bad enough for the Volturi to involve themselves? She saw her family with their heads mounted on spikes, but that and her earlier thought were mere echoes. Imagination. It was far too soon to know if their leaders would step in and exact retribution.

Calm, once more draped around her, and Alice thanked her lucky stars for Jasper. Without him, she would have lost it, and had to run and swim home.

"What did you do!" she bellowed the second she stepped into the house. She'd known she would be too late long before American Airlines pulled up to the airport. And yet still a small part of her hoped she was wrong.

Edward appeared at the top of the stairs, expression stony. Shut down. A moment later Alice was at the top of the stairs herself.

"Darlin' -"

Jasper's plea remained uncompleted, because before he'd finished speaking Alice had slapped her brother, and filled the house with the sound of a thunderclap.

"Do you have any idea what you did?"

This wasn't like when Jasper slipped. Which was always agony, not just for them, but for the life that vanished down his throat. Jasper still had a bone deep cunning. Military training never left. And he'd never taken someone so noticeable.

 _But there's something strange about this,_ she admitted to herself.

"Alice," Esme called, stepping from the study. Her voice was calm, and kind, and hard as any mother's when she was disappointed with her children. "Please don't break your brother. He's only just finished healing."

Shame coursed through her as part of her vision came back to her. A future now past. The tree trunk going through Edward's skull. They were strong, yes, but velocity could usurp plenty of things. Especially when it was something so large. Even some bullets could harm them if they weren't careful.

 _And he **wasn't** being careful. _

Alice sighed, and pulled her hands down her face in an attempt to pack away her wildly fluctuating emotions. Jasper could only keep her in check for so long.

"Edward," she said flatly, "Someone saw you offering her a ride."

Her brother's face drained of the faint color left to it. He sat heavily on the top step. There was a thin filigree of cracks across his right cheek and eye socket.

Guilt, anger, exhaustion.

Hunger.

Alice sighed, and sat down next to him. Rosalie and Emmett would be home from school soon, and she figured that someone on the 'kids' side had to be there to protect her idiot brother.

So she waited, for Rosalie. And for a vision of what kind of Vampire her brother had created.

 _A sister, or an enemy?_

 _VS &S_

Pain ceases to have any meaning after a while. Even when it gets worse. The mind is capable of learning to ignore almost anything, especially if it never changes. Like how, on my first day of third grade I slept through my alarm. This was a little like that.

In the sense that a turkey was a little like a velociraptor, genetically.

There was no way to describe it. It was like losing your mind because even when I was used to the pain I couldn't ignore it. It encompassed my entire life.

There was no Bella Swan. There was no gender. There was no sight. Just darkness, and agony.

I wondered if my charred lump of a body was even a part of me any more. If wasn't some burning spirit. If I wasn't in hell.

It lasted forever.

 _VS &S_

It lasted just under seventy-two hours. Which sounds so small. I can promised you that it isn't.

 _VS &S_

I opened my eyes to a dark wood paneled room. There were no windows, but it looked very comfortable. There was a huge TV mounted over a fireplace, and shelves and shelves of books that even now managed to draw my eyes.

I was half way through reading the titles on one of the six book cases when I realized two things.

First, that I shouldn't have been able to read the tiny lettering at all in light so dim. Especially not when I was all the way across the room.

Second, that I was not alone.

A man sat across from where I was laying on the couch. He was maybe thirty years old, if I was rounding up. But one look in his eyes made me think of age. The calmness of an older man.

He was looking at me with a very kind, but very sad expression.

"Hello, Ms. Swan."

I said nothing, only stared, and tried to put together a puzzle in my head. It started with a car ride. It ended in my death. I died. I remember it. There was no logical reason for me to have survived, for the monster who caught me to let me go. And even if he had, I remembered the feel of broken ribs. It was laughably inconsequential after what I'd just gone through.

His attack was a hallucination, I thought. It seemed logical. Edward Cullen was dead. Nothing could survive that kind of traumatic impalement.

Someone must have found me.

But then, why was I not in a hospital? And why did I feel – well. Perfect? No phantom twinges from the cartilage I'd torn in my knee when I was twelve and failing at ballet. Not even one of my frequent headaches. Let alone a result of the serious trauma inflicted by the car accident.

Confusion.

"Am I dead?"

I supposed the pain could have just been death itself. And that I was now sitting in some sort of heavenly waiting room. The small nerdy part of my soul was disappointed. I'd sort of hoped for a specific anthropomorphic personification...

Another equally nerdy part of my soul wondered if I was about to see a Cyberman somewhere.

But, mostly? I was just glad to not be in any more pain.

"So, am I going to hell?" I asked dryly. "Because I'm going to have to appeal the system if that's the case. Because I think I was just there, and that more than makes up for any bad thing I have _ever_ done."


	3. Birds of a Feather

**Authors Note**

First of all, I want to thank my wonderful reviewers. I'm glad to know you're enjoying the story thus far! Your response is what has motivated me to keep posting the chapters as I write, instead of letting them gather dust on my hard drive. Honestly, you guys are the best. Now, onwards!

 **Chapter Three: Birds of a Feather**

"Ms. Swan – you aren't dead," the stranger replied, golden eyes wide.

 _Harried. That was the best word to describe him,_ I thought.

"If I'm not dead then I can't honestly think of a logical explanation as to why I don't feel _entirely_ like shit." Thus far the only problem I had was a swiftly growing sensation of fire in my throat. It wasn't quite on the level of strep, but it was way past comfortable. I was thirsty too.

The man snorted, and smothered a laugh. His eyes were no longer quite so wide. He seemed a little more comfortable around me. But there were still lines of tension in his face, and the way he held himself so stiffly. "This may be a lot to take in Ms. Swan, but you are no longer human."

"Sure I am," I replied brightly. My fingers closed tightly around the edge of the couch. I could feel my smile straining.

 _Pop pop pop!_ My fingers vanished through the leather like it was cellophane. I stared at my hands and noticed how much paler my skin was. And – no. It was too weird. I pulled my fingers free and stared more closely at my skin. It looked – well. Airbrushed was the only word. No imperfections at all. Tiny freckles and bumps and scars I'd once had were all gone.

Trembling, I found myself staring at the man again. I had scarcely thought of turning my head and then my eyes were exactly where I'd wanted them to be.

"What – what's going on?"

A low sigh from my companion. He put a comforting hand on my shoulder, leaning across the distance in a short speedy movement that seemed natural to me now. "In this day and age, people have a hard time believing, and it sounds ridiculous, however it's true. I can promise you that you are neither hallucinating, nor have you been drugged."

The build up really wasn't helping here. _Not human. Not human._ It echoed in my head like some twisted gospel chorus.

"You're a vampire."

"I'm sorry?" No. I refuse. Vampires? They aren't real. "I could have sworn you just said vampire."

Perplexed, he nodded. "Yes. That's what you are."

I read a lot. I love it. It's my escape and my passion. I've been eternally disappointed by the fact that the world is a logical place with no magic, and monsters of the type that are usually only men or women with little devil's in their head.

I've accepted that reality is sort of boring, especially at my age. Seventeen is all high school, and not much else.

So it was more than a little difficult to process what he was trying to tell me.

"How?" I asked numbly.

My throat burned.

"Edward, my son, bit you. But stopped himself before you died. Vampires are full of a kind of – venom. It burns you from the inside out, and when he bit you -"

"I was infected," I interrupted.

 _Edward Cullen_ had actually eaten me. _Fucking ate me!_

The lurching, twisted monster that the Volvo birthed came to mind. I remembered the lack of blood. Even in the car. No blood from him. All of it mine. And he'd had a rather drastic plastic surgery done by a tree to his face.

The physical reactions I was expecting never came. My heart didn't start thundering in my chest, familiar feelings of suffocation didn't manifest when I stopped breathing. I didn't need to breathe. It was this more than anything that convinced me of the truth.

"I, I th-think -" I struggled to speak through the sobs building in my chest. It was real. All that terror. Everything. Monster's under the bed, in dark alleys, in the dark. Not all of them were human. Not all of them satisfied with mere murder or robbery, or rape. "I think you jumped the gun, telling me I'm not dead."

Edward's father still had his hand on my shoulder. A comforting gesture that provided none of it. I leaned back into the couch, covering my face with my hands, and tried not to scream. The crying I couldn't help. Because if he called me 'vampire' there was only one road forward. And it involved murder.

My stomach seemed to boil with nausea, and my burning throat felt tight. Though the memory was distressingly fuzzy, and hard to hold on to, the terror of being – being hunted by Edward was still very clear. I imagined putting some other girl or boy through the same fright.

I imagined doing it to hundreds. Thousands. Living meant eating. Eating meant murder.

And I didn't want to die. But.

But I can't.

"What kills us?" I asked, face still covered, chin touching my chest.

"Fire," he replied.

I laughed bitterly. "Figures."

I'd just come from a fire pit. I didn't want to go back to it. And most of all I didn't want to die. But this – this was a conundrum I couldn't escape. Can't die. Can't live.

"Not starvation? I – I can't eat people. I can't. I was people and -"

My companion sighed, and in the sound I found kindness. "No, Miss Swan. When I was first changed, I despaired. I was no killer. And in fact, I hunted monsters. Real monsters, the vampire's who ate our kind. So for a very long time I hid myself in the wild, and tried countless methods of suicide. None ever worked. But many months later, as I sat isolated, I came across a herd of deer. More than half mad with the hunger, the thirst – I hunted and drained nearly all of them."

I peeked out at him from between my fingers, eyes a little wider. It was then that I realized I was basing my assumptions on the few fictitious books I'd read over the years involving vampires. They generally weren't thing, given how they were either wildly depressing, or smut. With the exception of Dracula and Salem's Lot anyway.

It hadn't occurred to me (mostly because I didn't care) that there might be other options.

By slow degrees, I relaxed.

The man patted my shoulder comfortingly, and smiled at him. It was very paternal. So much so that it reminded me of Charlie, and my heart ached.

 _It's not beating but it's breaking,_ I thought, remembering an old tune.

Breathe, Bella. Breathe. One step at a time.

I sat up straighter, hands clasped in my lap, and faced the man here to help me cope. This was not fiction. This was my life now and I was damn well going to make it work.

Positives. Think positives.

 _I have all the time in the world to read._

That brought a small smile to my face. I could read everything I wanted. I'd never miss out on another author's brilliant work. Not that I had yet but – books, as always came to comfort me. With so much time, I could see the world. Learn every language, maybe craft my own... take any college class I wanted –

Time could be terrifying. But my personal life timer had stopped. I could breathe. And I could relax, and even, maybe, change the world.

Paths bloomed in front of my eyes.

There was an awful lot to fix, now wasn't there?

Now smiling far more naturally, I relaxed back into the couch.

"I need to know the biological rules that apply to us," I began. "And your name."

"Carlisle," he replied, looking much relieved.

I was sure there was more pain to come from all of this – and a burning ember of hate waiting to be expended lay in wait in my head – but for now I would adapt. Logic my way through the impossible nature of the world. It's what I was good at.

 **VS &S **

Alice stood abruptly from where she'd been sitting in her room, reorganizing her closet – it was something she did when she was too stressed to draw. Jasper turned to look at her from the bed. He'd been staring at a book without reading it for quite a long time. Listening.

If she concentrated, she could almost hear the sound of Carlisle talking with Bella. Not words, but tone.

That wasn't what had caught her attention though. No, that familiar tickle in her brain was growing stronger. Almost like a sneeze.

"Vision," she mouthed at Jasper.

Then a possible reality slammed into her so hard she went stumbling backward. She saw Chief Swan knocking on the door of his neighbors house, and a little old widow answering.

"Why yes, I saw your daughter get into a car the other day. Awful rain, I would have offered her some tea if I'd been able to get up -"

Alice watched her describe the car, and watched Chief Swan's face tighten as he made the connection. She saw him driving toward their house. And on the clock on the dash, saw the time.

Half an hour from now.

"Has anyone taken care of the Volvo?" she called, wondering if the plan the family had come up had been put into place yet. There were so many variables...

From deep within the house came an affirmative.

Rosalie.

Alice dashed to her room, and saw the pretty blonde absently hovering over her homework. Emmett was off with their brother, hunting. Edward hadn't been doing well. And Emmett was the least upset at him. Parents – well, disappointment was another beast entirely.

"Bella's father is about to go and talk to the woman next door who saw Bella get into Edward's car. He'll be here in just under thirty minutes."

"I did what you wanted with the car, made it look like crash damage."

Alice nodded and darted off toward the basement. Carlisle needed to play his part... and someone needed to babysit Bella to make sure she didn't do anything rash.


	4. Flock Together

**Authors Note**

I think fairly soon I'm going to have to go back and improve upon the first three chapters. I am unfortunately without any kind of feedback until I post, and I have no beta.

 **Chapter Four: Flock Together**

The knock to the front door came like the wrath of god. Despite the fact that it was polite. That changed nothing of the tone in the room. Carlisle traded a quick glance with Esme, and she immediately went for her position in the kitchen. She enjoyed baking and donating her creations to various events and shelters, and for once it was coming in handy to the family proper. If only so they looked more normal.

Once more, a knocking.

Carlisle forced himself to walk toward it at a human speed. "Hold on, coming!"

The door opened on Charlie Swan's haggard face. It had been almost four days, and each and every minute of them seemed to have been carved into his expression. There were newly formed threads of gray in his black hair, and mustache. This like nothing else seemed to have aged the man.

"Chief Swan!" Carlisle exclaimed. "What's wrong? What brings you here?"

Genuine concern. Regret. Not that it changed anything.

"Doctor," Charlie replied. "Do you have any idea where your son is?"

Though he hated to play dumb, it was necessary to the act they were putting on. Carlisle stepped aside so the man could come inside if her wanted, and said; "Well, Emmett is helping Rosalie work on her car, Jasper said he was doing his homework, and Edward left to go tour a college down in California on Friday after school. Why? Is this something to do with your daughter?"

Charlie looked grim. He hadn't yet stepped inside. "Have you heard from Edward since he left Doctor Cullen?"

He blinked, allowing the first threads of concern to cross his face. It was easy enough to do, since he felt that anyway. But for very different reasons. "No. But – but he's a teenager. They're not known for... wanting to talk to their parents."

"Doctor Cullen, has your son ever mentioned my daughter before? I was told by one of her friends that he seemed to be openly hostile the first time they met in class."

Carlisle could practically feel his family in the other parts of the house begin to cringe. "No, Chief Swan. But then I didn't see him much that day. I – I should call him."

Edward's phone, as per instructed by Rosalie, had been left at the crash site in his backpack. Which was made to look like it had gone through an animal attack. Mostly because one of his children had worn it on a hunt, so it had been. Bella's backpack had gone through something similar. All the mechanics of telling a perfect lie.

"I think you should," Charlie said. "Bella -" his voice broke on her name, and his face seemed an inch from collapse. He shouldn't have been working this case. Police chief or not, the personal aspect alone...

But then, Carlisle had to admit that no good father would let something as silly as rules stop him from trying to find his child.

So, the good doctor produced his phone from his pants pocket, and called Edward's phone, a look of intense concentration on his face. The fear for his son was very real. But not because he thought he was dead. Edward was blaming himself now for not simply killing the young woman below when he'd had the chance. Because to his mind murder was better than destroying someone's soul.

Carlisle couldn't agree. But Edward... was spiraling.

"He's not picking up," he said after a moment, putting the phone away with a jerky movement, and what he hoped were convincingly wild eyes. "It went to voice mail."

A pause, and – "Can you track his location by phone? It's a new model, they have GPS included, don't they?"

"Your son gave my daughter a ride last Friday. Maybe. They're together." But Carlisle could see in the other man's face that he was swiftly losing hope. Two missing teenagers? And the storm that night? There were many possibilities but so few of them involved life.

And yet below their feet his daughter was very much alive.

 **VS &S**

I've never been so tempted to scream in my life. The burning in my throat was only getting worse, and some pretty pixie-like vampire was blocking the door and staring at me intently, golden eyes seeming more inhuman now than they had been a few days ago.

Was it because I knew what to look for now?

A low rumble began to build in my throat, and my hands hooked into talons. I wanted to tear something apart. I wanted to see my father. Why the hell couldn't I? He was just a few feet away.

I eyed the other girl – Alice – like she was a lot smaller than she really was. I could take her. My limbs felt like they'd been run through with power lines. If I had to, I could even rip her apart.

 _No!_

No. Even though my hands ached with the need for destruction, I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't kill her. I didn't want to kill anyone!

And I have time, I thought again, forcing down the rage. Fighting it like it was the hydra. Because with each assault of temper I fended off, two more were there to take its place.

I sank to the floor and pulled my knees to my chest, teeth clenched so hard they ground together with a hideous, barely audible shriek.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I hissed under my breath. "Fuck!"

"You're taking this well," Alice said.

"I've thought about tearing you apart at least three times," I rumbled. And just putting the sentence together caused the venom pooling in my mouth to dribble down my chin. It tingled. And I didn't have the presence of mind to be embarrassed. I was too busy wrapping myself in chains.

"Yes," Alice said. "But the thing is you only thought about it. I could see you doing it, but then faltering. It's admirable."

"It's the self control of any mature adult," I spat, thinking of Edward. Edward who was at least ten years older than he looked. Edward who should have fucking known better, and not tried to fucking eat me!

 _He ruined my life. I am going to –_

A vivid daydream of ripping off his head filled mine. Only, in my imagination his neck spouted blood. And that made the agony in my throat flare hot, and bright, and inescapable.

Without any though I found myself on the foot of the stairs.

A second later I went flying into the couch, and Alice was standing there blocking me off like a line backer.

I stared at her, temporarily stunned, and she beamed brightly back at me. It was weirdly adorable. My brain very nearly skittered off on a road I no longer had hormones to blame for existing. Until the moment when I heard a knock on the door above. And my father's voice.

This time Alice was on top of me like greased lightning, and nearly as fast the other girl – whom I hadn't noticed was waiting at the top of the stairs – joined in. I was pinned. And thrashing like a hooked salmon.

Blood! The smell! Oh god it was so – so wonderful. But so faint. If I could just get closer – just close enough to touch the heat, to smell every nuance. I was so hungry! Surely I could at least be allowed to smell it!

I struggled harder, bucking and kicking my legs to try and shake Alice off –

Only for the pretty blonde woman pinch my nose shut and snarl in my face. I'd never seen someone so lovely look so demonic, let alone manage both at the same time. Her eyes were coal black, and her hair fell around her face in a soft golden halo.

"That smell up there _is your father._ Do you want to tear your father apart, Swan? Do you want the last fucking thing he sees to be his crazed daughter careening at him like some nightmarish _animal?_ "

Her words combined with the sudden lack of sensory information coming in through my nose was what quieted me.

I lay under the two of them, perfectly still, with tears I couldn't shed burning in my eyes. My lip quivered, but I didn't need to breathe. I could hold in this sob for the rest of my life and never need to take a breath.

So instead I closed my eyes and held on to my borrowed pajama pants, shoulders shaking. I just wanted to be home again, in my bedroom with my books, and my normal life. I wanted to be messing around on the computer while my dad fried fish in the kitchen below. Mostly, I wanted to be around people I knew and loved, and understood. Safe. Loved.

Not needed to be held down just to keep from murdering my father.

My fragile plans of sneaking off to see him when I had a moment alone fell to tatters. I couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

And what if by the time I got control of myself, it was too late? And my parent's moved on? What if seeing them again only hurt them worse?

Oh god, time, immortality – it could probably be nice. But to me, in that moment it wasn't worth the loss of my life, and my family.

"She's good now, Rose," Alice said softly from somewhere above me.

The hand holding my nose closed vanished, but I didn't start breathing again. I just lay there and waited.

It seemed to take a long time.

Mostly because while I waited I could hear my father talking upstairs, and how close his voice came to breaking with each syllable.

Instead I focused of the steady ticking of the clock. How fast would time seem to move after a hundred years? It was already so quick to me, and I was still a teenager.

Did that measurement of age even count any more? What was I?

A cool hand on my cheek. I opened my eyes and saw it was Alice.

"You're Bella," she replied. "Bella Swan, no matter what happens. It gets easier."

I didn't question how she knew what I'd thought of saying. Instead I was up and hugging her before I fully knew what I was doing. A kind face. A soothing voice.

I hated needing to be comforted, I hated to look so weak in front of strangers – but her arms felt warm and soft to me, and I could close my eyes and pretend my mother held me instead. Softly, the cries came out.

There are several stages of grief. People can skip, and backtrack, and be people about it. I was grieving for myself as much as my parents. And for that moment I was almost able to accept I couldn't change things.

It took a while for me to get it all out.


End file.
